


24th November 1978

by immistermercury



Series: spin-off fluorescent!verse [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: HIV/AIDS, I made myself cry with this, M/M, Pneumonia, Sad, Sad Ending, and everything else that was thrown at him, fluorescent! verse but it's not really that relevant, fred is 28, freddie's last days, jim is 32, the children are six and seven, this is what could've happened if they hadn't tested hiv negative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “There’s a special part of your body called the soul.” Jim told her; he wasn’t sure where he found the words, but they filled in the vacuum that had been created in his heart, or at least made it less noticeable. “It’s everything that you’ll remember about Daddy, all of his words and his funny faces and his dancing and his singing. That’s left his body now, and it’s flown up to a special place called Heaven.” He sat on the floor of the corridor with her in his lap. “Where Daddy’ll get a new body that isn’t sick. And he’ll wait there until we go, too.”“So-” Her little eyes welled with tears. “I can’t see Daddy again?”“Not for a long time, princess.” He whispered. “Not until you’re an old lady. But Daddy’s up there-” He pointed up at the grey November sky, the sunshine just beginning to break from behind the clouds. “You see the sunshine?”She nodded and crawled a little closer to the window to see better. “That’s your Daddy. He’s watching you to make sure that you don’t get too sad. That’s why he’s shining down on you.” He promised. “He’ll always be there to remind you that he loves you.”
Relationships: Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Series: spin-off fluorescent!verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767547
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	24th November 1978

**Author's Note:**

> The title is 1978 because Freddie in the fluorescent verse was born in '50, and this is set two years post Incandescent.

He didn’t even register when Jim walked in the room anymore, those thin eyelashes staying closed against sunken cheeks, chest heaving with the effort of taking in slow, shallow, wet breaths. His skin was paper-thin, blotched with purple and red, sores eating away anywhere that touched the bedsheets beneath him, cancer biting so angrily at skin that had once been so supple and beautiful beneath his fingers. He was quiet except for the occasional coughs, as fragile as his fingertips on the sheets; he barely had the energy to even try to cough anymore. He was dying, and Jim knew that they were down to the final days, though no one had said it aloud.

He wouldn’t survive this, no matter how many times Jim had promised him otherwise, tear-stained and curled together in front of the fire.

“How are you doing?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper; Freddie looked so fragile in that bed that he was frightened of tearing him apart by raising his voice too high. “Baby, can you hear me?” He asked, touching his warm fingers to Freddie’s, oh-so-cold beneath him.

“Yes.” Freddie whispered, though the sound was agonising, and he turned his head to try to make out the figure of his lover beside him. He couldn’t see much beyond a smudge of colour anymore, but his mind - always the artist’s mind, photographic - could fill in the blanks, the kind eyes and the full lips and the laughter lines etched from years of parties and whiskies and little children tugging on their sweatpants, brushing their teeth with babies on their chests and toddlers on their hips. “I’m okay.” 

It was such a lie, but Jim appreciated it all the same. “It’s Talulah’s first show on Tuesday.” He told him, stroking the back of his hand. He found himself increasingly biting back tears every time he sat with his husband these days - Freddie hated to see anyone shed a tear for his sake - but the idea that he would experience so many firsts without his lover made him ache through to his core. He wasn’t even sure Freddie would live to Tuesday. “She’s a little fairy.”

“The Sleeping Beauty.” Freddie said immediately; he was soothed by the fact that he could picture his little girl dancing in his mind, even if he’d never get to see it in real life. He’d taken her so diligently to all of the dots classes, dancing with her to make her laugh, wearing their company merchandise loud and clear to show off that he, a principal, was letting his little princess follow in his footsteps.

That had been three years. He lived in a world of memories now, memories of stage lights and music composed by his lover; he still managed a shiver when he heard the crescendo of Manon now, though his body barely had the energy to spare.

“It is.” Jim rested his forehead on their clasped hands. 

“What does she look like now?” Freddie asked tiredly, his eyes already closing of their own accord; his memory was more beautiful than his sight now. He still saw the children of an evening when Jim would carry him into the armchair in the lounge, bundled in blankets to try and placate his shivering, and one would sit in his lap and tell him stories about their day; Freddie would only half-listen as they let him explore their arms, shoulders, necks and faces with his fingers, trying to map how they’d changed since he’d lost his sight.

“She’s beautiful.” Jim whispered. “Her hair is longer, it’s halfway down her back, and her cheeks have filled out a little. She’s looking more grown-up now.” 

Freddie dozed a little, listening to him, jolting when he realised he was falling asleep, sending him into another round of coughing, gasping for breath. Jim rubbed his back, trying to soothe him as best he could, until Freddie eventually calmed. “Have you told them I’m dying?” He asked.

Hearing it out loud made tears burn at the back of Jim’s eyes, and he couldn’t help it if he shed a few. “Not yet.” He whispered. “I- I don’t know how.”

“I’m going for a very long sleep.” Freddie whispered. “That’s what I tell myself. Somewhere wonderful.”

Jim held onto him tighter. “I don’t want you to go.” He whispered hoarsely. 

“It’s a bit late for that now, darling.” He tried for a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I’m not going to take my medication anymore.”

The words hit Jim in the heart. “You can’t give up.” He said immediately.

“The doctor thinks I’ve got three days.” He replied. “With or without medication, it’s not going to help.”

* * *

“Pop?” Oliver waltzed into the room where Jim was sat alone, petting Delilah and staring out the window. Sometimes it hurt too much to look at his son, the picture of Freddie when they’d first met, when he was eighteen and curly-haired and beautiful, fresh-faced like his little son. Jim knew his face was wet with crying - he wasn’t strong enough to keep it in, not like he needed to, and sometimes he had to be alone. “Poppa?” He asked quietly, his voice a little more fractured.

“Yes, darling?” Jim replied thickly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Can I see Daddy?” He asked quietly, sucking on his thumb. “I miss him.”

And God, Jim missed him too, even if he was two rooms over; he missed the man he’d fallen in love with, the man before the diagnosis, the man before the cancer and the pneumonia and everything else that was trying to kill him. “In a little while.” He whispered.

Oliver crawled onto the bed and curled up against his father. “When is Daddy going to get better?” He asked.

Jim had to cover his face as he sobbed again, shoulders shaking, and the feeling of guilt multiplied when Oliver wound an arm around him to try and comfort him. “I love you, Pop.” He whispered, trying to make him feel better.

Jim picked him up and held him close; soon he’d be all he had left of the man he’d loved for ten years. “I love you too, angel.” He whispered. “Your daddy- he’s going to go for a very long sleep.” He tried to explain, though the words choked him. “Somewhere far away, where he’s not going to be in pain anymore and they’ll fix his body like when you were little. And one day-” He swallowed another sob. “One day, we’ll get to go to him.”

Oliver had so many questions - he wanted to know where this place was, and why he couldn’t get better here - but he was quietened by the opening of the door. “Why don’t you go and see Joe in the kitchen, Olly?” Peter offered. “I want to talk to your Pop for a little while.”

Jim broke down when Peter swept him into a hug. It was hard, it was so hard, to watch your husband die and the life you’d created together crumble around you - he was twenty-eight, he deserved more, he deserved so much more and so much better. Jim’s hands trembled as he sobbed into Peter’s jumper, overcome with the feeling of complete hopelessness; if it wasn’t for the children, he’d have been there with him.

They had the same diagnosis, after all, and he was watching his own future.

“It’s so hard.” Peter whispered, holding him close. “I know, Jim, I know it’s so hard for you, and the kids just can’t understand yet.”

“He’s so ready to go.” Jim whispered. “It’s like he wants to die.”

“He’s in agonising pain every minute of every day, and he knows he won’t get better. He probably does.” Peter said gently. “So you’ve got to make the most of the time you’ve got left with him.”

“He’s twenty-eight.” Jim rubbed his eyes harshly. “Why us? He never deserved that.”

Peter sighed. “He didn’t deserve anything he went through. Some people don’t get what they deserve.”

* * *

“I want to have one last look around.” Freddie said quietly, looking over at his lover. “I won’t bother you again, I just- I want to take the memories with me.”

Jim was already helping him into another sweater as he threw back the blankets from his body and picked him up. “I used to do this for you all the time.” He whispered. “Used to pick you up and carry you around.”

“Whenever I was tired from shows.” Freddie rested his head on Jim’s collarbone. “How many cars have you gotten me out of in your time?”

Jim laughed a little despite himself and pulled the door open with his foot. “Too many.” He murmured. “Do you want to walk, or shall I carry you around?”

“I think I can walk.” Freddie let himself be put down at the bottom of the stairs and clutched close to his lover, walking slowly. “I love this house. I spent so long decorating it.”

“I remember.” Jim said softly. “And then I spilt red wine on the white carpet two weeks later.”

“I could’ve killed you.” Freddie smiled, letting his fingertips skim the walls. “We’re in the dining room.” He murmured, recognising the carvings by the doorframe.

“We are.” Jim whispered. “Oliver’s at the dining table.”

“Bear?” Freddie asked hopefully, smiling when he felt little arms wrap around his waist. He knelt down and took the little boy in his arms, pressing a dry kiss to the top of his head. “Hello, darling.” He whispered.

“You’re walking.” Oliver whispered in awe, kissing his father’s cheek. “Are you feeling better, Daddy?”

“A little.” Freddie smiled, and Jim could’ve smacked him for getting all of their hopes up when they knew the ending.

But then, hope was all he had left to live for.

“You’re getting big.” Freddie murmured, squeezing him as best he could. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Oliver whispered.

“Has Pop explained to you what’s happening with me?” He asked, stroking his fingers through his hair.

“He said you’re going for a long sleep somewhere that’s going to make you better.” He said diligently. 

“And do you know how long ‘long’ is?” Freddie questioned.

The little boy shook his head, and then remembered he couldn’t see his response. “No, Daddy. A week?” He asked softly.

Freddie sighed and looked down for a moment. “I’m going to die, darling.” He said quietly. “Which means I’ll be gone for years and years. But I’m going to watch you grow up-” Tears bloomed in Freddie’s eyes. “Even if I’m not here, I’m going to watch you grow up, so you have to eat your greens and be nice to your Pop.” He whispered hoarsely.

Jim knelt beside him and hugged Freddie close as he cried into his shoulder. “Do you have to go away?” Oliver asked, his voice thick with his own tears. He didn’t want Freddie to go for years and years; he loved his Daddy more than he loved anybody else. 

“Yes, sweetheart.” Freddie whispered. “I can’t make it stop.”

* * *

He was colouring mindlessly with Talulah, filling in the pink of a princess dress, trying to keep the children happy and distracted, trying and failing to distract himself. She was using a gold gel pen to colour in each individual stone of the crown, fastidious and precise, just like her Daddy-

“Jim-” Peter said breathlessly, standing in the doorway. “The doctor thinks it’s time.”

He didn’t want to, he couldn’t see him go, but a sense of duty made him follow him upstairs regardless. “He’s not conscious.” Peter said quietly, holding the door open for him. “But he’s breathing.”

Jim knelt by his bedside and took one of his hands in both of his, though he was shaking violently; he rested his forehead against their clasped hands. “It’s okay, darling, you can let go.” He whispered, those words he’d rehearsed over and over again. “I love you, Freddie, thank you for being my husband. Thank you for being the father of my children. Thank you for loving me.” He sobbed.

They all sat together in silence for a few minutes, occasionally broken by the gasp of Jim’s sobbing, and the doctor checked his pulse once more. “He’s gone.” He said quietly.

“You bastard.” Jim whispered, all the words he’d really wanted to say when he’d gotten so sick. “You were getting better, you were walking, you said you’d be okay.”

“He will be okay, Jim.” Roger knelt beside him and rubbed his back lightly. “Nothing hurts, now. You’ll see him again one day.”

Talulah stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching to one of her toys. “Daddy?” She whispered, lower lip trembling.

Jim stood up on shaky legs, and though he was tear-stained himself, he picked up the little girl. “Daddy’s gone, darling.” He whispered hoarsely.

“Gone?” She echoed.

“There’s a special part of your body called the soul.” He told her; he wasn’t sure where he found the words, but they filled in the vacuum that had been created in his heart, or at least made it less noticeable. “It’s everything that you’ll remember about Daddy, all of his words and his funny faces and his dancing and his singing. That’s left his body now, and it’s flown up to a special place called Heaven.” He sat on the floor of the corridor with her in his lap. “Where Daddy’ll get a new body that isn’t sick. And he’ll wait there until we go, too.”

“So-” Her little eyes welled with tears. “I can’t see Daddy again?”

“Not for a long time, princess.” He whispered. “Not until you’re an old lady. But Daddy’s up there-” He pointed up at the grey November sky, the sunshine just beginning to break from behind the clouds. “You see the sunshine?”

She nodded and crawled a little closer to the window to see better. “That’s your Daddy. He’s watching you to make sure that you don’t get too sad. That’s why he’s shining down on you.” He promised. “He’ll always be there to remind you that he loves you.”

She blew a little kiss into the sky. “I love you too, Daddy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I usually avoid all reminders of Freddie's death, but this was incredibly cathartic and challenging to write. I imagine you didn't enjoy it, but I'd love to hear your thoughts regardless.


End file.
